


everything on (and off) the ice

by neomeruru



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, hangovers, teenage drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 22:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neomeruru/pseuds/neomeruru
Summary: A place to put Yuri on Ice-related drabbles.Chapter 1: Yuri & Phichit + baby's first hangover





	everything on (and off) the ice

**Author's Note:**

> [From the prompt generator](http://idleleaves.elementfx.com/yoimachine.html): _Yuri/Phichit, charm me, the morning after, humiliation, first times_

Yuri doesn't realize he's not in the right bed, at first. Every hotel room looks the same in some general sense. The sheets are crisp and white, the walls are beige; there is a television, and a piece of inoffensive art, and a window with gauzy curtains that do fuck-all to keep the light from piercing directly into the part of Yuri's brain that's responsible for his mouth.

"What the fuck," he groans, still half asleep. The heavy white comforter is fever-warm and he ducks his head underneath, a dim little cavern of sleep sweat and the astringent tang of alcohol. "What the fuck," he mutters again, quieter.

Pressure roars in through his ears and presses all in around his brain when he turns his head, a pulse that starts vaguely pleasant but almost immediately begins feeling like someone's got an ice pick in his skull. He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth to relieve some of the pressure and whines through his nose, curling in on himself as he rides the wave of nausea that crests along with the pain.

"Hold on, I think Other Yuri is finally awake," he hears from outside his blanket cave. "No, not a false alarm, I don't think. He got up to barf and get the beer poops like two hours ago, he probably doesn't even remember. I'm gonna go."

There's a pause. "Yeah, I know. I'm the best. Yeah. Okay. See you in a bit."

Yuri squeezes his eyes shut in humiliation as the man tosses his phone on the other bed and lets out a quiet sigh. He can't summon anything about last night at all, except — he's in Switzerland, and in Switzerland he could buy beer at a bar, and in Switzerland he actually hung out with people who didn't think the evening news meant it was time to go to bed.

He can put together what happened.

"Are you alive?" the man asks, and Yuri groans as a little fragment of memory flutters up to the surface of his mind, like a little piece of shit that won't flush. Victor and Katsudon, Giacometti, and... and Chulanont. Sweaty bodies, loud music. Dancing. The voice doesn't have Chris's accent, so it must be—

A firm weight, like a dumbbell, smacks him in the stomach with a sloshing thwap. Yuri jerks and swears, kicking the comforter until he flings it — a water bottle? — away from himself. "What the fuck," he says again, getting some good mileage out of it.

"You said that," Phichit says. He sounds like he's smiling. The bed dips as Phichit kneels on it, and light streams into his comfort-fort as the blanket is slowly peeled away. "You need water, crackers, and a shower, in that order. When you're ready."

"Get lost," Yuri manages.

"You smell like death," Phichit says, too cheerful. His cool fingers push back some of the lank blonde hair that's stuck sweatily to Yuri's forehead. "You've got about ten more minutes of me helping you, then you're on your own. The complimentary breakfast is almost over."

Yuri rolls over. The world doesn't roll quite at the same speed, and snaps uncomfortably at the end.

Another water bottle thuds densely against his shoulder. "Make good choices," Phichit reminds him.

"Oh, my god, fuck off," Yuri says, twisting and shoving himself until he's more or less propped up onto the pillows. He takes the water bottle and uncaps it - seal already broken, which is good, because his hands feel gummy and weak - and takes a cautious sip.

Phichit's brown eyes watch him with amusement, and he gestures with his hand to encourage Yuri to take another sip, and another, until his mouth tastes less sour and he can swallow freely.

"Ready for a cracker?" Phichit asks, offering him a plastic sheath of saltines. Yuri frowns and shakes his head, but Phichit just keeps holding them out until Yuri relents and takes one.

"Where's Victor?" he asks, nibbling even more cautiously on the serrated edge of the saltine.

Phichit folds his legs so he's resting against the pillows as well, still amicably holding out the crackers between them. "With Yuuri. They left pretty early last night, then Chris went home with someone, so it was just you and me. You didn't seem like you could make it back yourself, and I didn't know what your room number was, so... here we are."

Yuri looks around the room, noticing for the first time that he isn't in his room. Phichit's suitcase is open near the window, his free skate outfit hanging on the back of the bathroom door. "Yakov?" he asks.

"I unlocked your phone with your thumbprint and texted him," Phichit says, "He said you deserve whatever you get."

Yuri finds himself smiling, a little. "Sounds right."

Silence stretches between them, not awkward, but not entirely companionable either. Yuri finishes one cracker, and bravely takes another. Phichit goes for one at the same time, and doesn't even look embarrassed when their knuckles knock together — just offers Yuri the one he has and takes another for himself. They munch in contemplation.

"You didn't have to babysit me," Yuri says, because he has to say something, and it's not going to be thank you.

"You're welcome," Phichit says, hearing it anyway.


End file.
